


Speechless

by justanothersong



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothersong/pseuds/justanothersong
Summary: Bucky didn’t speak to you, not directly; he chided his friend playfully and gave Peggy a half-hearted interrogation, clearly just as gleeful as Steve that his friend had finally found his soulmate.





	Speechless

Words could be a tricky business. The whole soulmate thing, you thought, was a bit of a mess, really. Your life would have been so much easier if you’d been born with your soulmate’s name slapped somewhere on your body, rather than having to wait for the day you encounter them to feel their first Words to you seared into your skin. That was the biggest hiccup, right there: it was always their first words _to you_.

You could see the same person every day for years, hear their voice as they ordered coffee or greeted friends or asked for directions, but if those words were not meant for you, they would never appear on your skin to tell you, without a doubt, that this was your soulmate, the one person in all the world who was made just for you, to be with you, to love you. 

There were those who said you should feel _something_ when your soulmate is near, though it had never been proven and many just considered it an old wives’ tale. Funny, considering there had been those trying for years to prove Words were some kind of psychosomatic reaction, without any real result, for centuries.

Your parents had Words. Many of the adults you encountered did, growing up. But the first time you saw someone receive their Words, you were seventeen.

 

Your cousin Peggy was visiting in England. She was nineteen years old and effortlessly beautiful, strong-willed and full of life. You adored her -- you always had, from the very first time you remembered meeting her at age four, when the six year old Peggy declared that she was a Special Agent and you were her partner, and the grubby boys from down the lane who had been throwing mud at the two of you were the Enemy Who Must Be Stopped. Your families took turns visiting over the summers, and that year it was just Peggy who came to stay with your family while her parents took an anniversary cruise.

At nineteen, Peggy was at the epitome of cool, as far as you were concerned; she was an adult now, all grown up, and even looking to get a flat of her own back home, away from her parents house. She had been telling you all about it as you took the train to the movie theater, heading to see the latest blockbuster on a warm summer night. 

The man in the ticket booth was small, so much so that at first you thought he couldn’t be more than a seventh or eighth-grader, until you saw the more mature look to his face, marking him easily into his late teens. He smiled as you approached, the perfunctory friendliness of a customer service position, but you saw his blue eyes widen when they lit upon Peggy, with her vintage rockabilly hairstyle and ruby red lips. She saw it too -- and seemed to like what she saw -- giving a flirty smile in return.

“Good evening, miss,” the man said through the speaker. “How can I help you?”

Peggy’s eyes grew wide and she gasped, doubling over and clutching at her stomach with a groan.

“Peg? Oh my god, Peg, what’s wrong?” you asked, voice gone up an octave in alarm.

“Miss? Miss, are you ok? Should I call an ambulance?” the man continued. A door on the side of his booth popped open and he stumbled out to the sidewalk, reaching a hand out to touch Peggy’s shoulder, clearly concerned. “Do you need some help? I can…”

“Oh my god would you _bloody well just stop talking_?!” Peggy finally gritted out and as soon as she spoke, the man grunted and his back slammed into the side of the booth, hand going to grip at his shoulder in shock.

“Peggy?” you asked, still concerned.

“I’m alright,” she reassured you. Breath still heaving a little, Peggy managed to straighten. She smoothed back her hair, and smiled, even with unshed tears shining brightly in her eyes. She grinned.

“Well,” she said on a long exhale. “I didn’t expect it to be quite so painful but it’s fading now. Are you alright, then?”

The man nodded slowly. “Are you…?” he asked.

Peggy’s smile grew. “Yours,” she replied.

Things moved quickly after that; Peggy ushered you inside to watch the film while she stayed behind to get to know her shiny new soulmate a little better. She didn’t join you until the film was almost over, and you suppressed a giggled when you leaned over to whisper that her sweater was on inside out. She laughed softly and lifted the hem to show you the Words, the man from the booth’s diatribe -- Steve, she said his name was -- written there in what must have been his sloping scrawl, the letters still angry and red from their first appearance.

She had been almost certain as they approached the booth that something important was about to happen, she told you. She felt it inside -- in the flutters in her stomach, in the tingling of her fingertips, the certainty that something very important was coming her way. And then he had spoken and in spite of the pain, her heart was fit to burst with the joy and emotion she had felt.

When the credits rolled and the two of you made it back to the theater lobby, Steve was standing there getting something of a dressing down from a middle-aged man in a bad toupee who appeared to be his boss, though the younger man didn’t seem to care in the slightest. His clothes were rumpled, the dress shirt of his uniform buttoned wrong, and there were traces of cherry red lipstick on his collar that seemed to accent his own dopey smile -- a smile that grew when he saw you and Peggy approaching. From what you gathered of the ensuing conversation, they’d snuck into a disused projector room together to see each other’s Words, and once clothing started being moved about, things had gotten a little out of hand.

It ended with Steve being fired and not caring much about it, since he’d been near quitting to apply for a bookstore job on the campus where he attended classes, and he just didn’t have it in him to be upset about anything on the night he met his soulmate. He called a friend to pick him up, offering you and Peggy a lift home without asking, and that was how you met Bucky Barnes for the very first time.

He was terribly handsome, a fact you picked up on immediately: the beautiful contrast of dark brown hair and light blue eyes, hair just that perfect little bit too shaggy, a dusting of stubble on his face. He had a gorgeous smile and it trained on you for just a second, sending a flight of butterflies tumbling in your belly, before turning towards Steve.

Bucky didn’t speak to you, not directly; he chided his friend playfully and gave Peggy a half-hearted interrogation, clearly just as gleeful as Steve that his friend had finally found his soulmate. He dropped you off with Steve and Peggy promising to meet up the very next morning.

Peggy applied for a Soulmate Visa and received it that very day, much to her parents’ chagrin. They spoke with Steve over a blurry Skype call and while he seemed nice enough, they had their worries; it didn’t take a sharp connection to see that Steve wasn’t the healthiest guy around. He was dreadfully thin and wore the look of a man who’d recently gotten over a bad flu; you’d heard him wheeze once or twice and there was a barely visible curve to his spine. Peggy saw it too, but she didn’t care; the way she looked at him, you knew she was already in love.

After her parents threatened her with a loss of financial support, Peggy simply shrugged and ended the call. She packed her things, kissed your parents goodbye, and hugged you tightly before heading out the door on her soulmate’s arm.

“May as well get the rest of our lives started,” she called cheerfully, and moved into Steve’s meager apartment with little fanfare.

 

Four years down the line, you were in a desperate search for a new apartment. Your old roommate had moved in with her boyfriend a few months prior and you managed to make rent on your own a few times, but it depleted your savings and you hadn’t gotten a new roommate to pick up the slack. It was just too much on your own and everyone who had applied to your Craiglist ad had been a creep.

Peggy, as usual, became your saving grace.

“You know, a friend of Steve’s has a place,” she mused over the phone one afternoon. “She inherited a brownstone and is looking to rent a few rooms out.”

You knew Steve quite well by then; it had been amazing, the way he had flourished with Peggy by his side. Before their first year together was out, he had grown a full eight inches in height and the curve of his spine had all but disappeared into his newly muscular frame. There had been stories about that too, about the way soulmates would be finding their ills disappearing once fate had brought them together, the healing power of finding their other half letting it all fade away. Steve was almost unrecognizable, if not for the same easy smile he wore, the same deep timbre of his voice, and the same love in his eyes whenever he glanced Peggy’s way.

“That sounds great, if it’s not crazy expensive,” you replied, pausing to think on it a moment. Steve was one of the nicest people you knew, but he had something of a motley crew of friends. “Which friend of Steve’s is this?”

“Natasha,” Peggy filled in cheerfully. “She’s barely home as it is, you’d pretty much have free reign over the place. I think Clint’s taking a room as well, so he’d be putting in appearances now and again, and of course Lucky would be there.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Lucky was the most scraggly, unkempt mutt you’d ever encountered in your life. Clint had brought him to Steve and Peggy’s now and again, and you couldn’t help but adore the pooch.

“Ask her for me, would you?” you said, nodding to yourself.

Peggy chuckled. “I knew you’d never give up a chance to room with Lucky,” she said.

 

You moved into Natasha’s brownstone two weeks later. It was a little intimidating at first; you didn’t know Natasha well, only knew that she traveled a lot for work and that she and Steve were close friends. She was more than a bit terrifying, in an astonishingly beautiful sort of way: fiery red hair with never a curl out of place, cool calculating expressions, and the aura that she could kill a man with her thighs and not even blink.

It was quite the surprise when she turned out to have a dry sense of humor and enduring affection for terrible films from the 80’s. Just went to show that you could never judge a book by its cover.

Apart from an overabundance of pizza boxes in the trash and a constant need to buy more coffee, you didn’t mind living with Clint and Natasha one bit. Peggy and Steve were over often, as were many of the people in their small circle of friends, and they accepted you as one of their own without question.

It did however mean that you saw _him_ pretty regularly.

 

You’d never really gotten over your crush on Bucky Barnes. He had been your dream boy when you first met, the epitome of a bad boy with hair a bit too long, too much stubble, and a leather jacket, and as the years and your tastes changed, so had he. 

This new Bucky had cut his hair shorter, cropped on the sides but longer on the top, clean shaven and blue eyes still sparkling with mischief. The black motorcycle style jacket had been traded in for sleek brown leather, plain t-shirts for henleys with the top few buttons undone. It was as though he’d gone plucking through your subconscious to find exactly the sort of man you would be attracted to and conformed to the images that he found there.

It was frustrating as all hell.

You still got butterflies in your stomach when he was near, so though you’d smile politely in greeting, you’d always find reasons to disappear. The last thing you needed was to make a fool of yourself in front of the close friend of your cousin’s husband, a man who was a permanent fixture in their little social circle. 

A man who you were pretty sure had something going on with Natasha.

Case in point: you came home from running to a small grocery store down the block, grabbing some snacks and extra coffee grounds so you’d be sure to have some in the morning, to find Natasha sitting on the stone rail of the stairs, Bucky crowded up close to her, the two sharing an intense conversation. You moved to slip past them into the house when Bucky gestured wildly, intending to make some all-important point, and managed to knock the grocery bags right out of your hands.

He turned in surprise to see you scrambling to pick up your things and quickly knelt to help you.

“Hey, sorry about that, doll,” he said, holding out the can of coffee with a small smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

You winced and offered a tight smile in return, grabbing the coffee from his hands and rushing inside with the rest of your purchases. You threw them down on the kitchen island, ignoring Clint’s greeting, and running right up the stairs to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You gasped for breath, leaning against the door for a long moment before walking on shaking legs to your mirror. With trembling hands, you lifted the hem of your shirt, and gasped.

 _Hey, sorry about that, doll. I didn’t see you there_.

It was scrawled in angry red letters across your abdomen, the handwriting familiar enough, as you’d seen little notes scribbled by Bucky left here and there around the house. You reached out to touch them, drawing in a sharp breath at the twinge of pain it caused. It would be a while before they smoothed over and scarred properly; women in your family alway tended to get their Words across their stomachs like this, just like your mother had, just like Peggy.

It occurred to you only then that in the years you had known him, there hadn’t been any words passed between you and Bucky until that very afternoon -- and you’d run away before you had any chance to respond.

Horrified at the implications, you did the one thing you always did in times of crisis: you ran to Peggy.

 

Bucky had watched you gather your scattered groceries and run up the stairs into the house with a puzzled expression that soon grew into a frown. His gaze had first been one of surprise at your sudden departure but he’d have been lying to himself if he didn’t admit that it had lingered as you ran, pausing for a healthy amount of time on your backside before it disappeared through the heavy wooden doors. Turning back to Natasha, he nodded towards the path you had taken into the house. 

“Now what in the hell did I ever do to that girl that she runs away from me like she’s seen a ghost?” he questioned, frown deepening.

Natasha snorted. “I think it’s more about what you _haven’t_ done to her,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Bucky may have been blind, but Natasha took in her surroundings with a constantly cool calculated gaze. She saw _everything_.

“No riddles today, Nat,” Bucky warned, shaking his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

Natasha huffed and kicked her heels against the stone of the rail where she sat. “Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you’d notice that the only times you’re not staring at her, she’s staring at you.”

Bucky’s cheeks pinked at her comment, just a little, just enough so that she knew she had hit the mark, and Natasha grinned at him.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, like a petulant child.

“Aww!” Natasha crowed, tossing her fiery red hair. “Bucky’s got a crush!”

“Give me a break, I barely know the girl,” Bucky responded quickly. “She never sticks around when I’m here and I don’t think we’ve passed even a handful of words between us. She’s cute as hell but that’s as far as it goes.”

Natasha’s green eyes narrowed. “James…” she began slowly, the use of his given name making Bucky frown. “You’re right, you know. I don’t -- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two speak to each other. Before now.”

Bucky snorted. “I think I did all the speakin’ here, Nat,” he pointed out, gesturing towards the door you had escaped through. “She didn’t so much as… oh.”

Natasha smiled. “Exactly,” she agreed.

Bucky shook his head, said your name and then paused. “No. She’s… it’s been _years_ Natasha, we’ve probably… I mean, we had to have… at least once or twice…!”

“You would think,” Natasha agreed with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you’re right, she does run off when you show up and you tend to cling to _me_ when she’s around.”

“What? I do not,” Bucky scoffed, even as the blush on his cheeks grew deeper. Steve might have been his best friend but the guy knew nothing about girls -- all he knew was Peggy, and close family relationship aside, you weren’t similar enough for Steve to offer any advice. Bucky didn’t want to cause trouble, didn’t want to venture into a relationship that would go belly up -- if he messed up, if one of you found their soulmate -- and then threaten the group dynamic. It wouldn’t be fair.

Natasha always provided a good buffer, to keep him from doing anything foolish.

“Who’d have thought? Bucky Barnes, too scared to make a move,” Natasha teased, voice smug enough to match the smile on her face.

“She’s Peggy’s cousin, Nat,” Bucky reminded. “I fuck things up, who is Steve going to side with? Family, that’s who.”

“As far as Steve and Peggy are concerned, you _are_ family,” Natasha reminded. “Besides, what’s the harm in at least getting to know her? Unless…”

“Unless what?” Bucky snapped, growing tired of having his personal life dissected.

Natasha’s expression went soft and sympathetic, a rarity as of late. “I mean it, Buck. Is this… is this really the first time you’ve spoke to her? After all these years?”

“It can’t be,” Bucky told her, frowning. “It can’t be.”

 

Peggy was the most dignified person that you knew. Even under great duress, she remained calm and in control, face giving away nothing of what she was feeling. Which is why it startled you just a bit when you lifted the hem of your t-shirt to show her your newly acquired Words, and she outright squealed.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around you. “I’m so happy for you! Where is he? Who is he? Or she? They? Tell me, tell me everything!”

You opened your mouth to speak, trying so hard to keep your tone and expression neutral, and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh no, you poor dear!” Peggy said, quickly pulling you into a tight embrace. “What is it, what’s happened?”

For a long time, you could only cry, clinging to your cousin as you shoulders shook with sobs. Peggy held you close, whispering soft soothing sounds and rubbing your back as you got it all out. She let you cry until you got it all out, until the sobs wouldn’t come any longer and the tears dried on your cheeks. When you pulled away, sniffling, Peggy reached to brush your hair away from your face, giving you a tight smile.

“Come on now, you can tell me,” she said softly.

You sighed heavily. “I got my Words,” you explained. “But… he’s… he doesn’t… oh, Peg, he has someone else. He never so much as looked at me for years and now…”

Peggy frowned. “For years?” she echoed. “What do you mean? You hadn’t just met him?”

You lifted the hem of your t-shirt again, staring down at your Words that were still tender but fading from angry red to a softer pink. With a sigh, you opened your mouth to try and explain, interrupted by the opening and closing of the apartment door. 

“Pegs, I’m home!” Steve’s familiar voice called into the apartment. You could hear the sounds of shuffling by the door, knowing he was most likely leaving his shoes and his coat behind in the small hall closet.

“With you in a moment, darling!” Peggy called back, her attention still focused on you.

“I really need to hit the shower after that run, babydoll, but you’re welcome to join me if… oh, hey, I didn’t know we had compan - _oh my god, Bucky is your soulmate_?!” 

Steve’s exclamation had taken a wild series of twists and turns, leaving Peggy momentarily stunned and you absolutely horrified, dropping your t-shirt back into place. Of course Steve would recognize Bucky’s handwriting at a glance; you hadn’t even thought to hide it from him.

“How is that even possible?” Peggy finally spoke up, frowning even as Steve grinned. It warmed your heart a little that he would be pleased, in spite of the circumstances.

“We never actually spoke before,” you half-mumbled, eyes cast down. “I kind of… I mean Peggy, you know that I… and I was too nervous around him, so I… oh, god, Peggy, I’ve made such a mess of everything.”

 

Bucky frowned to himself, sitting on the couch in Natasha’s brownstone while she fluttered about, readying herself for a date that night. He’d been thinking about it since Natasha had first offered the idea and, as far-fetched as it seemed, he couldn’t think of a single instance that proved her wrong.

He leaned back on the ugly plaid sofa, hands crossed behind his head, and bit his lip. Surely, you must have spoken to each other? Just once? ‘Pass the popcorn’? ‘What time is it’? ‘Looks like rain’?

But you always shied away from him -- from the group. You stuck to the corners, often speaking quietly with Peggy or Steve when everyone was together. Bucky remembered asking Peggy once why you were so quiet, if you were just terribly shy… And she had laughed, long and hard.

“Not once you get to know her,” she corrected with a wink. “There’s good reason that she’s always been my favorite cousin. ‘Cut from the same cloth’, our parents always said.”

And Bucky couldn’t believe that, not at all. Peggy was a firecracker; you, it would seem, were a mute who slunk through the shadows rather than do as much as say ‘hello’.

Not that you’d been cold. No, Bucky remembered that much -- that you’d smiled, small and tight, before flitting away from him, time and again. That you nodded at him when he entered a room, but never said a word in greeting. 

You’d laid out a place setting when he’d stayed for dinner, and even gotten him coffee now and again, just the way he liked it.

Bucky, he realized with no small amount of surprise, had never so much as offered a ‘thank you’ in response. He’d feel bad about it later, of course, for being so damn rude and taking your silent hospitality for granted, but for now… well. Now as the time to fully panic and wonder if the thoughtless words he had offered on the porch that afternoon were now etched somewhere on your skin.

If the thrumming, electric feeling inside of him was his own body answering a call, waiting for the words you would gift to him. 

He had to know.

 

The sky was beginning to darken when Natasha finished dressing, Bucky still sprawled unhappily on the sofa, watching her flit back and forth.

“Are you going to sit there all night?” she asked him airily, slipping an earring in as she walked towards him. She looked lovely, as always; Natasha was a living bombshell, and even the simple black dress she wore made her seem as though she’d stepped off a magazine page. But to Bucky, she was still just Nat -- his friend, his occasional confidante, but nothing more.

“I have to talk to her,” Bucky told her, leaning forward to clasp his hands in front of himself, elbows balanced on his knees. “If it means waitin’ here all night, I will.”

Natasha smiled, slipping in the second earring. “I could just kick your ass out onto the street, you know,” she warned.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Natasha, we both know I have a key.”

“For _emergencies_ ,” Natasha reminded him, hands on her hips.

“This ain’t an emergency?” Bucky replied. “Shit, Natasha… if this… if she’s… it’s what I’ve been waiting for. You know that. If it’s her, it’ll be… Jesus Christ, it’s one helluva emergency!”

She smirked. “How many years, and now it’s an emergency?”

Bucky glared. “I don’t need this from you,” he grumbled. “Of all people.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha said, waving him off. “Settle down.” She snatched her purse from an end table and called out, “Clint! Are we doing this or not?”

Bucky watched her go, the faintest edges of her Words, only months old, peeking above the back of the dress: _Aw, Redhead, no!_. Clint popped out of his own room, dressed in a suit and looking far more dapper than Bucky had ever seen him.

“Have fun, you crazy kids…!” Bucky called dryly, and Clint snorted. His Words weren’t visible, but Bucky knew exactly what they said: _If these stains don’t come out, they will never find your body_.

 

You stayed at Peggy and Steve’s place for a few hours, crying your angst out on Peggy’s shoulder even as Steve watched you with a careful gaze. He’d asked quietly if you’d wanted him to go and give the two of you some privacy, but you weren’t about to kick him out of his own home -- particularly when you had upset his plans for the afternoon. 

He never did get that shower.

Both had urged you to to talk to Bucky, to give him his Words, and let things progress naturally from there, but they didn’t seem to understand. Maybe they didn’t know; they didn’t live in Natasha’s brownstone, they didn’t see the quiet conversations the two shared. Words might make soulmates but they didn’t always make lasting relationships, after all.

As it got later, you felt more and more guilty for interrupting their day with something that would be so meaningless in the end. You insisted you were fine, insisted you could go home and handle the aftermath yourself.

“It’s getting dark,” Steve told you, glancing out the window at the swiftly darkening sky. “Let me at least walk you home.”

Your expression must have made it clear that you intended protest, because Peggy cut you off with a laugh.

“Don’t try and brush him off,” she told you. “You’ll never break that chivalrous streak.” She hugged you tightly and smiled in pulling away. “Everything’s going to work out fine. You’ll see.”

You walked mostly in silence, Steve walking along beside you, nearer to the street as though unconsciously trying to shield you from any danger from evening traffic. He gave you a few considering looks as you moved along, but said nothing. It became unnerving after a few blocks, and you sighed.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” you offered quietly.

He gave you a friendly smile. “Couldn’t have you gettin’ lost in the dark, now could I?” he teased. “Peggy’d never forgive me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease. “I’m sorry I ruined your afternoon.”

“C’mon, you didn’t ruin anything,” Steve said, pausing at the steps to the brownstone. “You know our door is always open to you, no matter what you need, right?”

You smiled, a little watery. “Thanks, Steve. I’m so glad Peggy found you.”

“Me too,” he agreed, the smile on his face almost blinding even in the low light of the streetlamps. “Best thing that ever happened to me. I hope, maybe, when you and Buck get all this worked out, it’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you two, too.”

You shrugged. “I think it’s more complicated than that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Hey,” Steve said, a warm hand on your arm. “Talk to him. Just talk to him, okay? Maybe it’ll surprise you.”

“I’ll try,” you relented, and mounted the stairs. “Goodnight, Steve!” He stayed and watched until you unlocked the door and slipped inside, waving before you closed the door, then turned to head back the way you had come.

 

You yawned and sighed as you made your way into the house, dropping your keys on a table near the door and rolling your shoulders as you walked. You kicked your shoes off in the living room and realized that the house seemed still and empty; you frowned, trying to remember if Natasha had mentioned that she would be out for the evening and wondering why anyone would have left a living room lamp burning, when he spoke softly.

“I hope you don’t mind me stickin’ around,” Bucky drawled. He had at some point moved to one of the side chairs need the window, apparently having been watching for you to return. “Nat and Clint went out so I thought I’d wait for you to get back.”

You nearly opened your mouth to reply but stopped short, giving a tight smile and a quick shrug of your shoulders. Your anxiety was suddenly through the roof; you knew now that whatever you said would be etched across Bucky’s skin for life. How did you make that decision? Would a simple ‘No problem’ suffice? Maybe just a ‘hi Bucky’? Did you really want to give him that for life?

Realizing you were alone with him, no one left to deflect and no recourse but to hide, you gave what you hoped to be an apologetic smile and started moving towards the hall and the refuge of your bedroom. Maybe you could push it off, just a little while longer. Maybe it didn’t have to be tonight.

Bucky called your name as you turned and you heard him get to his feet to follow. “Please, wait!”

You didn’t stop until you reached your bedroom door, the brief pause it took for you to reach for the doorknob enough for him to catch up to you, his hand on your upper arm to make you pause.

“Please,” he said again and you turned, flattening your back against the door. Your lips parted in surprise but you didn’t say anything. Bucky let you go, dropping his eyes guiltily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… please, just… I need to talk to you, okay? That’s all.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, feeling panic start to rise within you. Bucky seemed to sense it too, and took a step back from where you stood.

“I just… you ran away so quick this afternoon, and it got me to thinkin’,” Bucky told you, eyes flicking to your lips and then rising to greet your gaze. You were surprised at what you saw there: worry, vulnerability… perhaps even hope?

“I’ve known you forever now,” Bucky went on with half a smile. “Ever since the day Stevie and Pegs found each other. We were like a couple of packaged deals, yeah? You and Peggy, me an’ Steve. Funny how it is, all these years later… I know your voice, doll, the sweet sound of your laugh and the way you sigh… but I can’t think of a single word you’ve said to me.”

You drew in a breath, your face heating. Did he know? How nervous he made you? It hadn’t been that way at the very start; sure, you’d found him attractive, but the more you got to know him from the sidelines, the harder it became to really open up to him. 

“S’pose I’m just as bad,” Bucky went on. “Guess I had a hundred… hell, a thousand different times I could have so much as said ‘hello’ and I never did. I’m real sorry for that. Cos if what I’m thinkin’ happened today really did happen… oh, hell, sweetheart, we’ve wasted so much time.”

He reached up used his thumb to brush away a tear from your cheek that you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So how about you put me out of my misery here, huh?” Bucky told you, voice dropped low with the intimacy of the moment. “Say somethin’, doll. Say anything. Just a ‘hi’ or a ‘hello’, anything. Tell me to get lost, tell me I’m wrong, but just say somethin’ so I know if everything I’ve been feeling all this time is real.”

You sucked in a low breath. “I don’t know what to say,” you finally relented, more tears falling, and even through the sharp hiss of pain, Bucky was grinning. He rolled up the sleeve of his Henley and there it was, your sloped messy handwriting scrawled up his arm in bright red letters: _I don’t know what to say_.

He was still grinning when he leaned in to kiss you but you dodged, hitting the back of your head on your bedroom door. When he frowned, you shook your head.

“Natasha,” you said, by way of explanation.

“She’s out,” Bucky reminded with a soft laugh. “So’s Clint. We’ve got all the time in the world, no one here to interrupt.” He leaned in to kiss you again but again you dodged him, stepped away from him and away from your door.

“But you… you two are…” you stammered, feeling a little ill at the mere thought. Here he was your, soulmate, live and in the flesh and it was _Bucky_ , Bucky that you had pined over, Bucky that you had adored… but he had a girlfriend and he was still trying to… trying to…

Bucky frowned. “We’re friends,” he said slowly. “Me and Nat? We’re friends, that’s all, doll. She’s been goin’ through a rough spot, needs someone to talk to sometimes. Did you think that we were…?”

“You’re always together,” you pointed out. “You’re here all the time, the two of you with your heads together…”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Half the time, I was just hangin’ out because I liked bein’ around you, when you’d let me. The other half, well… it’s maybe not my place to say but I think you should know… Natasha and Clint are soulmates.”

Your eyes widened. “But Clint’s…”

“Married, yeah,” Bucky agreed, nodding. “It’s been puttin’ Nat through hell, you know. Clint’s wife booted him out as soon as she saw the Words and Nat took him in without question but it’s been tearin’ both of’em up. He’s got a kid on the way and it’s a mess, but that’s the way Words go sometimes.”

“Oh,” you told him lamely. It was so much information to process. Bucky and Natasha, Natasha and Clint… all this time, Bucky right there, you could have had your soulmate all along… and Bucky, did he… had he known? He’d said… what had he said? He liked being around you? 

Your eyes widened in realization. He had felt it too, then. That draw. That pull. It was real, it had all been real, and there were your Words scrawled up his arm.

“Oh my god, Bucky…!” you gasped and then suddenly he was kissing you, his strong arms wrapped around you and your back against the wall, and it was everything you had ever dreamed of. 

“All this time,” Bucky whispered when he pulled away, eyes shining brightly with unshed tears of joy. “All time this waiting, and you’ve been right here.”


End file.
